


Norrbotniabanan

by Fangirlishness



Category: Fyra år till | Four More Years (2010)
Genre: Extended Scene, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, canon compliant adultery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlishness/pseuds/Fangirlishness
Summary: Martin and David's first night.He doesn’t stop talking during the walk to the door, nor while putting on his coat. He thanks me for dinner with the cutest smile. Before I can say, “I have to thank you for this wonderful night,” he segues right back into politics.He’s so earnest and his eyes are so blue, sparkling under the stark hall light. All I can think is that he’s about to leave, and it makes my chest hurt. Before he can slip through my fingers, I lean in and kiss him. There’s no finesse to it, I just can’t think of anything else to do. I don’t even care that I’m interrupting his argument on corporate taxes.
Relationships: David Holst/Martin Kovac
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Norrbotniabanan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/gifts).



> As always, [Neery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery) did an absolutely amazing beta job... I did my best to incorporate all her excellent suggestions.
> 
> Thank you, [Sarren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren), for introducing me to this beautiful movie. This treat is for you!
> 
> The title means "Norrbottnian railway". It is—or was, at the time the movie was made—a contentious issue in Swedish politics, and David used it as an excuse for spending the night away from home.

David’s been talking about his party policies for half an hour straight in the earnest voice of the drunk. I’m tired, but for some reason I’m not bored yet, even though it is way after 2am already. 

His arguments actually sound less outlandish than liberal viewpoints usually do. Maybe it’s the wine, or the late hour, or maybe I just like to listen to him talk. 

I smile to myself as I think back on the conversations we’ve had tonight. In fact, it was just one long conversation, we never really stopped talking. It was interesting, and unexpectedly funny. Teasing him earned me some surprisingly self-deprecating jokes.

For all that he’s sarcastic about politicians, he’s earnest about politics. For some reason, that earnestness is what touched me most. I guess it resonates with the part of me that still is a politician with heart and soul. I don’t expect to meet people like that anymore. I haven’t met any in years. But here he is, sitting right next to me on my father’s old couch, launching into another excursion on tax law. 

I blink several times, trying to come back to the present. I must have been smiling at him like a dolt for the last five minutes and I belatedly school my face into attentiveness. I watch as his fingers bend around his grappa glass and his lips part to take a sip. 

Any second now, his eyebrows will give that funny twitch at the taste. They’ve unfailingly done that all night… here they go again. The smile is back on my face already, I can’t seem to help it.

But then he mentions leaving, and my heart lurches in my chest.

He doesn’t stop talking during the walk to the door, nor while putting on his coat. He thanks me for dinner with the cutest smile. Before I can say, “I have to thank you for this wonderful night”, he segues right back into politics. 

He’s so earnest and his eyes are so blue, sparkling under the stark hall light. All I can think is that he’s about to leave, and it makes my chest hurt. Before he can slip through my fingers, I lean in and kiss him. There’s no finesse to it, I just can’t think of anything else to do. I don’t even care that I’m interrupting his argument on corporate taxes.

I’m not sure how he feels about being kissed, but he has stopped moving. The gears in my head start turning. The first thing they snag on is that David is married, that maybe I’ve misinterpreted this whole night. 

I draw back to judge his reaction. 

Apparently, I didn’t impress him at all, because he just starts talking about taxes again, right where he left off. It’s not the reaction I was expecting. But he’s a little drunk, and so am I, so maybe I didn’t do it right. 

I try again. 

This time, a low whine sounds in the back of his throat. I seem to be getting through to him. With his lips against mine, I can feel his whole body shudder. I put my hand on his waist to steady him, but that doesn’t seem to calm him. It’s getting worse, if anything, and he seems to be pulling back. 

My heart sinks. I’ve scared him off, and he’s going to push me away. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him after all. I was so sure there was something simmering between us all night, but maybe I’ve read his signals wrong. 

Now that I’ve started doubting myself, I can’t seem to stop. I can already see him joining the ranks of fellow public servants bad-mouthing me for being a pervert. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I force my lips into a smile and wait for the inevitable rant.

It’s not coming. I feel his breath on my face, the clean smell of grappa tingling my nose. He isn’t moving farther away, and I dare open my eyes again just a little. 

David’s eyes are wide open, but it’s not fear I see there. It’s surprise, and wonder. Maybe apprehension, but that’s much better than what I’d been expecting. Maybe I’ve been reading him right, after all. Maybe I’ve just been moving too fast.

I close the gap between us again, slowly this time, so he can see it coming. The kiss is as gentle as I can make it. He twitches once more when my hand slides down his back. I am as careful as I can be, just holding him, barely pulling him closer. He stays with me this time. His body is still shaking softly, but finally his lips start moving against mine.

My heart soars, and I’m just coasting on the bliss of it for a few minutes. I feel so light, warmed by the pressure of his body against mine, buoyed by the shallow breaths puffing against my lips. It doesn’t even occur to me to do anything else, to move this forward.

The next time I have a conscious thought is when his hand brushes against my neck. His touch is so tentative it’s making all the hairs on my head stand on end. It’s intense. 

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been affected this much by a kiss. Like the turning of a page, like it’s all new. The way David is shivering, I suspect he might be feeling the same. An answering shiver goes all the way down my spine, and I can’t hold back a moan, my arms wrapping more tightly around him. I try to tease his tongue into my mouth, suddenly needing more, my whole body buzzing.

His tongue is just as tentative as the rest of him, and it takes me a while before I finally have it where I want it, slowly trailing circles around mine. When I drag my teeth across his tongue, his body gives another violent shiver all over, and he goes completely boneless in my arms. He’s practically hanging around my neck, clinging to me, arms heavy, his leg snaking around mine. I suddenly feel like I am the only thing that’s holding him upright, and if I’m not careful he’ll fall.

I usually know what I’m doing—experience is a good thing, and I have it—but I suddenly feel terribly clumsy. I’m afraid he’ll slip from my hands, fall and shatter like a delicate glass ornament. 

As if he’s read my mind, right at that moment David loses his balance. The coat hangers rattle when his head slips between them. Before I can help it, I am pulled along. The hangers swing wildly around our heads, clanging against each other and dropping coats left and right as we topple into the coat rack. David hits the wall, and I can just catch my weight before crushing him, barely stopping us both from going down in a heap of coats. 

“Oof,” he complains, shoving ineffectually at the coat hangers, creating even more of a racket. 

An embarrassed laugh pushes up through my chest. I’m glad neither of us are wearing shoes, because I’ve definitely just stepped on his toes. I don’t want to seem like I’m laughing at him. I still have that image of him falling, breaking, in my head, so I bite my lips. I quickly push myself off the wall, pulling David upright again, too. 

He’s rubbing the back of his head as if he’s hurt. I try to see if he’s okay, checking him out more closely for a few seconds, while he’s too flustered to meet my eyes. He seems to be more embarrassed than in pain, though, still looking at the ground and shuffling his feet under the coats. I let out a relieved breath.

I have to think of our first run-in with each other, in the elevator. He was just as flustered then. The only difference is that now coats are strewn across the floor instead of papers. The déjà vu is so strong that I really have to laugh this time. He looks up at me then, wearing an adorable self-deprecating smile, and my heart swells. 

Now we’re laughing together. 

My hands shake a little as they reach for him. I aim for his face, but he straightens up and they land at his throat instead. He freezes, the smile sliding off his face, his expression completely unguarded. He’s staring at me, his pulse quick against my palms. His eyes are a much darker blue now, they seem to be swallowing all the light, and me right along with it. 

I have to pull him up into another kiss.

He melts against me, his jaw slack and his breath hot. His lips are so soft, and I’m enjoying their smooth slide, always skirting the scratchy stubble right next to them, the contrast incredibly enticing. The sounds he makes are soft, too. I’m chasing them, trying to feel them out, luring more of them across my lips and into my mouth. I enjoy how he’s humming in my arms, his tongue so pliable, lost in sensation.

I come back to myself when David’s fingers find their way under my sweater. It must be by accident, because they’re gone again immediately, and now they’re gripping the fabric instead. But heat still radiates out from where he touched the small of my back, and all I can think is yes, yes, I want his hands on my skin. 

I reluctantly let go of his mouth so I can pull off my sweater. David is still holding onto it, and I gently have to pull it out of his grasp. When I’m done throwing the sweater into the corner and turn back to face him, he is just staring blankly at my chest. His arms have fallen to his sides, and he is swaying on his feet.

He looks so lost, and downright adorable with his mouth hanging open, I lean in and press my lips to the corner of his mouth. He immediately turns into it, lips dragging across mine, and I can’t help smiling. I’m aware that it’s ruining my technique, but I don’t really care anymore. If he turns me into a perpetually smiling dolt, then that’s how it is.

David luckily doesn’t care either. He is relaxing against me, and I feel another burst of heat when his fingers land lightly on my waist. They skip along the waistband of my pants, barely there, leaving hot trails in their wake. The soft material of his scarf feels delectable on my skin. I should make out with men with expensive scarves more often. 

It feels so good that it takes me a while to realize what’s wrong with this picture: I’m naked from the waist up—I wasn’t wearing anything underneath my sweater, I just grabbed the first thing I saw when I got out of the shower, it’s not like I had time to dress up when he showed up unannounced—and David is still fully dressed. He hasn’t even taken off his coat again.

I push at the coat and he obligingly lets me peel him out of it, only letting go of me when he absolutely has to, and keeping his other hand on me at all times. His suit jacket is a bit more difficult. It takes more concentration than I can spare right now, I’d rather play with his tongue. Of course he gets stuck in his jacket, but I somehow manage to get it down his arms one sleeve at a time, half-heartedly tugging and pulling. I’m glad when it’s done and I can return all my focus to kissing him again.

I should take his shirt and tie off, too, but I love the way he’s clinging to me. I don’t want to separate from him. Especially not to fiddle with buttons. 

I pull him closer instead, letting his moan wash over me. I’ve come to expect the accompanying shiver and I soak it up with my lips and my arms. He’s so warm all over, his heat flowing into me unhindered by the thin cotton of his dress shirt. I let my hands travel up and down his back.

My fingers slide through the damp hair at his nape, where his tie is still knotted tight around his collar. I imagine slowly unbuttoning his shirt, I really want to see what is underneath it. But if I do it now, I can’t watch, and I want to watch. I want to take my time undressing him and undoing his tie.

I might have a tiny little thing for men wearing ties. 

Maybe if we sit down, we can keep touching and I can look at him at the same time. I take a step backwards, steering us towards the living room. David stumbles a little when his foot snags on the coat pile, but I’ve got him safe in my arms. He’s shuffling after me, clumsily trying to keep our mouths connected. I don’t want to let go of him, either, but I’m no more coordinated than he is right now, and walking us across the living room takes a lot of my concentration.

I shift the low table aside with my leg, making room to maneuver him onto the couch. We’re almost there when David cries out and hops sideways. I reflexively tighten my grip on him, and our combined momentum carries us over onto the couch. He flops down with a grimace, and I stumble to the floor, landing on my knees, half being dragged by him and half from surprise. 

My motion shoves the table even farther away, the top scratching along my back. I ignore it, just like the angry clink of the wine glasses behind me, because David is moaning, “ow, ow,” and cradling his foot. I realize that he must have stubbed his toe on the wooden leg of the couch.

“Let me take a look.” When I put my hands on top of his, he frowns at me, some emotion flashing across his eyes that I’m not focused enough to understand. But he lets me take off his sock and test each of his toes.

At first, he’s complaining, but by the fifth one, he’s gone completely still. He’s holding his breath and I feel his gaze boring into my skull. His whole body tenses and I feel the air charge between us. 

Oh. If he thinks this is sexy, he’s seen nothing yet. 

I bend down to kiss his toes, looking up at him from under my lashes in between each kiss. He’s mesmerized now, his eyes glued to mine every time I look up, his breath hitching every time I touch my lips to a toe. By sound, I find the one he stubbed and lavish an extra few kisses on it.

I slowly let my left hand glide up, tracing the bones of his ankle, across the slight ridge left by the elastic band of his sock, and farther up, into his pant leg, while I keep kissing his toe. His leg is exquisitely hairy and breaking out in goosebumps under my fingers. It twitches so much when I let my fingertips drag over the back of his knee that his foot butts against my nose. From there it’s no leap at all to open my mouth and wrap my lips around his big toe.

He practically melts into the couch. His breath is coming faster, louder, and his eyes start to lose focus. I can see how hard he is now, being almost eye level with his crotch. 

My hand stretches out almost of its own accord to press against his dick, making him moan aloud. He strains against my hand, hot and strong through the thin material of his dress pants, and my eyes flutter shut. I work hard to open them again, reaching for his belt buckle, trying not to stop caressing his foot with the other hand. I’m not sure I succeed: he tenses up immediately when I start undoing his belt. He’s not moving away, though, just watching. His eyes look almost closed from this angle. I’m tempted to go slow, just because he looks so gorgeous, and his dick is moving so beautifully under the palm of my hand. 

I manage to remember what I started, eventually. David even helps, too, lifting his hips so I can pull off his pants. When the belt buckle clangs to the floor, he jumps at the sound. 

He’s staring at me, no, beyond me, his eyes unfocused, like he’s looking at something scary. I can't let him be scared. Quickly, I envelop his legs in my arms, and bend down to let my lips drag through the hairs on his calf and up around his knee. When I get to his thigh, his head drops back against the cushions and he lets out a low whine that makes my stomach bloom with heat. 

He goes lax in my arms, and his legs fall apart slightly. Such a tiny movement, but it means so much, and my heart skips a beat. 

I can smell his arousal from here, and I can see the shape of his hard length through the white boxer briefs he is wearing. There’s already a wet spot at the top. 

All I want is to take him in my mouth. Licking my lips, I can already taste the heady tang in the back of my mind. But getting undressed has made him as skittish as a foal. I am afraid if I go straight for this most beautiful part of him, he will bolt. So I tear myself away from the enticing sight and nose at the dip of his thigh instead, dragging my eyes up his body. They snag on his tie, which is still tight around his shirt collar, but out of center, the end flipped sideways. He looks wonderfully disheveled.

I know moving up was the right decision when I reach his eyes. Apprehension radiates from them, his mouth is tense, his hands stiff at his sides. I need to kiss the tension away. 

I put my lips to his collarbone, nipping at his skin right next to his tie. His Adam’s apple bobs when I nose against his jaw, slowly moving over towards his ear. His head falls back, giving me better access, and the tension in my stomach eases a little. I seize the opportunity to mouth at his throat and the sensitive spot under his jaw. It takes a minute, but finally, his shoulders seem to relax.

Kissing across his throat, I can feel his pulse race under my lips. He clings to me like he needs me, as though he doesn’t know that I am not going to leave him.

I know in this moment that he has me, all of me. The enormity of this realization makes me press myself against him, needing to be closer. The couch is working against me. I can’t get close enough, except to his mouth. But that’s something, and I take what I can get. 

David moans softly when my hands slowly glide down the front of his shirt and pass over his nipples. His eyes are still closed, but I’m sure he’s with me now. I don’t know how long it takes me to unbutton his shirt while he writhes under my hands. The buttons are tiny and my fingers keep getting in the way. I think I had something special planned, but I don’t remember what. 

It comes back to me when I pull his shirttails to the side. I have to lean back to do it, and, wow. There he is. That’s why I maneuvered us onto the couch. I wanted to see him.

I don’t really have time to admire the sight, because David’s hands are reaching for me. All I see is some chest hair poking out between his undershirt and tie before he leans forward to kiss me so insistently that I give in.

The shirt gets shoved off over the next few minutes without the need for us to break apart. When we have to separate so David can pull his undershirt over his head, I seize the opportunity to mouth down his throat. I’m aware that this doesn’t make it easier, but his gorgeous chest hair is distracting me. He’ll manage to get rid of the undershirt without my help, I’m sure. Not much later, he grabs me by the neck and drags me up to kiss him again.

He’s gotten more confident now, and his tongue no longer lets me do all the work. No, he’s insistent and playful, and his hands have found their way to my back again. They seem less clinging now, somehow. I can’t put my finger on it, I just feel like a weight has been lifted. My hands can roam more freely, and our kisses are getting more languid.

After a while, my dick reminds me that it’s getting uncomfortable. My pants are too tight and my hips are pressed against the edge of the couch. I drop the pants, which helps a little, but not enough, so I start pushing at David, our mouths still tightly fused, until he tilts to the side and lands on the couch, flat on his back. 

I almost expect him to freak again when our mouths slip apart, but he keeps clinging to me, blindly straining up, searching to reconnect. I catch his mouth again and his tongue is right there again. He’s completely unselfconscious by now, and a thrill races down my spine. 

I scramble up onto the couch, almost thwarted by my feet tangling in my pants legs. I manage to climb on top of him eventually, even if it doesn’t feel very graceful. I have a feeling David is not going to judge my performance. 

Once I’m stretched out on top of him, I simply let myself sink into the joy of our bodies touching chest to toe. Maybe I even moan, I’m no longer sure, the feeling of skin on skin is so overwhelming. 

I love the way his silk tie is shifting against my nipple when there’s just a little space between us. His chest hair is just as smooth, and I can’t decide whether to keep rubbing our chests together or to kiss him more deeply. I can’t seem to manage both at the same time.

David decides for me, his hands pushing at my shoulders to move, move, and so I do. I can still sloppily plant a few kisses around his mouth whenever I come close enough.

His hands travel lower and he pulls me against him with unexpected strength. The rough slide of our dicks sends a shock through me that steals my breath. David’s whole body shudders under me, his fingers grappling at my waist. The friction is too restricted by the cotton between us, but the way he moans more than makes up for it. 

His dick feels big against me, but maybe I’m just imagining that, since I can’t really see it. Maybe I’m so delirious with need that I’m making things up.

If we keep going like this, we will come in our pants. I suddenly realize that that is not what I want. I lift my hips away from him to catch my breath. His hips strain up, his hands pawing at me, but I’m not giving in this time. 

I want him to be sure, I want him to know without a doubt that I am his, that this is not just some drunken fumbling that I’ll forget about in the morning. Or that he can forget about.

I lean down close to his ear and tell him. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He groans in answer, and his hands start to shake where they’re gripping my backside. I roll my hips against his just one more time before I sit up. His eyes are blown wide and his chest is heaving. 

I straighten his tie, trying to stop my heart from racing. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I know it’s a risk to leave him here. He might have second thoughts, even now. But it’s a risk I have to take.

I get the lube and condoms from my bedroom as fast as I can. My shoulder hits the doorframe on the way back, and I careen into the living room. I slide on the hardwood floor and almost trip over the edge of the carpet, but I manage to regain my balance before I hit anything else on the way.

My heart is beating up into my throat when I come to a stop in front of the couch. I’m absolutely prepared to find David standing up and trying to leave, but he’s exactly where I left him.

My heart starts beating even faster. The way he’s laid out on the couch for me is breathtaking. His upper body is slightly propped up by one of the couch cushions and he has one hand behind his head in an attempt at nonchalance. His other hand betrays his nervousness, though, playing absently with the elegantly striped tie. Plain white underwear sets off his skin, radiant in the warm glow of the side lamp, chest hair glinting with silver-golden highlights. It makes me want to put my hands all over him. 

He looks like he’s waiting for me to do just that, his eyes slightly narrowed, and the smile on his face tentative. He looks shy, but less scared than I’d feared. 

I keep staring at him while I take off my underpants. I’m trying not to rush, probably not managing to look sexy, but the way his mouth falls open and his eyes lock on my dick is good enough for me. 

He tilts his head at me and lifts up his tie, one eyebrow raised in question. My dick gets even harder under his playful gaze. I nod at him, which he apparently interprets as permission to take it off. I watch as he undoes the tie with practiced hands and throws it behind himself. His lips are pressed together, trying in vain to hold in his smile, half embarrassed and half seductive. 

I just want to eat him up. 

But all I do is keep staring at him.

Then he pushes his boxer briefs down with a sexy little shimmy, and I finally stir and help him take them the rest of the way off. I definitely check out his dick while I’m doing it, and now I know I wasn’t imagining things before. It’s as large as it felt before, larger than I’d expected from his height and build. I gravitate towards it, my hands following along, drifting up his thighs. His legs are trembling and I spend a minute soothingly stroking them before I let my finger graze over his balls, up a vein and across the head. The thought of having him inside me makes my stomach flip over.

I close the distance between us, bracketing his hips with my knees. I lean down to kiss him and David puffs out a breath that turns into a moan when our dicks touch again, no fabric at all between us.

He starts rolling his hips again and it feels so good my thoughts start to scatter. I barely manage to hold on to the last threads of concentration, reminding myself that it could be even better, even though my body does its best to convince me otherwise. I allow myself a few more grinding motions, and a deep kiss for good measure, before I sit back on my heels and try to get my breathing back under control. It’s harder than it should be, he’s so beautiful laid out before me like this. I can’t keep my hands off of him. I force myself to look away from his dick and pat his chest instead, trying to calm down. It doesn’t work, I just seem to get more jittery, so I give up.

He doesn’t try to stop me when I start feeling around on the floor for the condom box. I finally find one and unwrap it, and our eyes meet again. His smile is shy, wavering, and he’s biting his lip. His hands have fallen to his sides.

I am suddenly absolutely sure that he has never done this before. 

I let my hands drop to his thighs, lightly stroking up, using all my free fingers to cup his hips in my hands. I catch his gaze and hold it while I paint soothing arcs across his skin until his breathing slows down. When I graze the side of his dick, his eyes flutter and his bottom lip slips from his teeth in a sigh. I finally look down again and let my fingers slip around his dick. It strains against the pressure as I slowly lift it towards me and roll down the condom. I can’t help letting my fingertip glide along it, the same vein still standing out as before, all slick and shiny now. David’s strangled gasp goes straight to my groin.

I bend down again for the lube and I know his eyes follow my every move as I take some on my fingers. It’s cold and makes me shiver, but I don’t waste any time, just spread it quickly where I need it. David is big, but I know I can take him.

I wipe the rest down his dick. It doesn’t feel as hard as before. I look back into his eyes, they’ve gotten impossibly wide. His breath is coming in short bursts. 

I can’t bear the thought of frightening him. I crawl up his body, keeping my eyes locked on his, trying to let my face say that it’s going to be alright. For one long moment he’s just looking at me, undecided, or unbelieving. I smile encouragingly and lean in for a little peck on the lips. That makes him smile, too, and he strains up almost imperceptibly, pursing his lips. 

My heart swells and I almost don’t manage to kiss him back, I want to smile so hard. I cup his face in my hand and we meld into each other. 

My hand slides up into his hair and suddenly he’s surging up into me. His hands find their place on my waist again, dragging me against him, the contact now slick and warm and irresistible. We quickly settle into a rhythm, the way he’s gasping making it impossible to stop. His every breath is loud and thrilling in my ear as my tongue strokes deep into his mouth, showing him what I want. I only realize I’ve lost my train of thought again when the friction starts getting sticky. 

The lube on the condom is drying. I hope it’s not too sticky yet. I tilt my head up to kiss him once more before I lift my hips into position above him. I gently bend his dick towards me and start lowering myself onto him. Soon he’s trembling again.

Or maybe those are my thighs that are trembling. He’s large alright, and I have to go slow, but the stretch is exquisite. When I open my eyes for a second, I see David is staring wide-eyed at our point of connection. He’s not so much breathing anymore as gulping in air every time I take him in another bit. 

I have his hips gripped between my legs, but he’s holding them still all on his own. All his agitation seems to express itself in a string of gasps. They might be words, but they’re unintelligible between his irregular breaths. His hands keep closing into fists and opening again close to my knees. He still hasn’t tried to move his hips yet, no need for me to stop him as I wait for the stretch to fade. I sink down the last little bit, my legs gratefully relax, and I let out a harsh breath. 

This is perfect. It’s exactly what I need.

David’s flood of words dissipates, and the ticking of the grandfather clock is suddenly loud in the silence. 

I smile at him and start minutely tilting my hips back and forth, enjoying the feeling of being filled. I keep my eyes on David, trying to see whether he’s okay, but the way he is twitching inside me is too much, too good, and my eyes fall closed. My hips can’t seem to stop moving, and every little change of angle sends a jolt of pleasure up my spine. I can feel my body start to sway. I grip the couch cushion with one hand, the other lands on David’s shoulder.

I can’t do anything but pant and hold on. I feel how David’s hands are stroking lightly up and down my sides, making heat bloom in my stomach. He’s barely moving otherwise, and I want to see his face, but I can’t open my eyes. This is not… I should take care of him, but it’s too much… 

I have no idea how long it takes until the intensity fades, but it does, eventually, leaving me lightheaded. We haven’t even done that much, and I feel like I’m walking on clouds already. 

I lean down to kiss David, but the shift in position makes him slip out partway, and we both groan. His hips twitch up, for the first time, hitting me in exactly the right place, the shockwave racing all the way to my fingertips. 

I think I try to kiss him again, but I don’t know if I manage it, because now we’re moving. He pushes up, and I push down, and my legs are numb but still working. I manage to trap my dick between us once in a while, the tip smearing wet against my skin, but it’s not enough. I don’t want to touch myself, even if I had a hand free, but I need them both to hold my weight. I know I don’t want to make David do it. I can’t explain why. It’s no use trying to think anyway. My throat is raw from panting, and every thrust sends sparks up my spine. 

The sparks keep spreading, but a little bit less every time, and I realize it’s not going to be enough. I’m pretty sure David’s close, though, so I bend down to kiss him again. I try not to break our rhythm and fail, but it’s warm and wet and worth it. 

Suddenly David is shifting under me, his knees lifting, thighs pressing into my ass, and he pushes into me stronger than before. Our mouths slide apart and I end up licking all over his face. My hand drops off his shoulder, and I can just catch my weight again on the couch, pushing back before he can slip out of me. He has more room to move now and he’s using it, thrusting in earnest. Oh, this is it, I can feel the heat building up again, gathering inside me, rising, faster than I expect it. David’s breaths are getting louder right next to my ear, and I’m trying to keep the rhythm steady, I’m trying not to change anything, but my body’s not listening, speeding up until the heat seems to fill my whole chest, blood roaring in my ears. His next thrust punches right through me, the heat explodes outwards, and everything goes black.

I can hear David shout out, a completely unfettered sound that spikes through my already blissed out body.

I feel like a puddle slowly sliding down the couch cushion and spreading myself all over David. He doesn’t seem to mind the weight, boneless beneath me, his arms slung around me. Everything’s wet. We’re two puddles. 

I listen to his heartbeat, and his breathing, slow and sleepy, and smile to myself. He stirs a little when I kiss the sweat from his throat, but he doesn’t seem to be completely awake anymore. I don’t mind, this is good. We should really go sleep in the bedroom, but I can’t bring myself to wake him, or to get up, for that matter. I don’t want to let go of him, not even for a minute. The couch should be wide enough for two if I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. 

When I try to move, a squelching sound makes me grimace. We’re practically glued together. So I rouse myself reluctantly and pad through the apartment for a washcloth. Walking is… interesting. I feel sore in all the best places. I pass my bed on the way to the bathroom, and it does not look inviting at all. Armed with a washcloth and bed linen, I return to David. 

I have to stop for a minute to look at him. He looks so peaceful. And gorgeous. I wipe him down carefully and slide the condom off his soft dick. I wonder for a moment if that’s crossing a line, but I know he can trust me, and I don’t want him to be uncomfortable. He sighs and squirms a little, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He only lets out a long, deep breath, and a smile spreads over his relaxed face. 

His smiles are infectious. I manage to put the bed linen onto the couch next to him, at least as well as that is possible with sore limbs and without waking him. Once the couch cushions are off, it looks much bigger than before. 

Or maybe it’s that David looks smaller. 

He hasn’t moved during all of this, still squeezed to the edge. He looks like he needs someone to hold him. Before I’ve realized what I’m doing, I’m already maneuvering myself into the empty spot behind him, draping the duvet over us.

I exhale, quietly and slowly. He’s still sleeping soundly, and I smile into the soft strands of his hair. As I pull him close to my chest, the tension in my limbs gives way to a warm pride. I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.


End file.
